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Katie B.

United States

Hi! My name is Katie. I am a sixteen years old, and I really enjoy reading and writing. When I'm not daydreaming or playing my violin, you can find me sketching, baking, wake boarding, swimming or skiing.

Message to Readers

Stop

Darn it. I had forgotten. Again. The walk home from school was short enough, but with Jack tagging along, it could take forever. He had to look at everything- the flowers, the neighbors’ houses, and the worms on the sidewalk. I love him and everything, but he is a bit of a nuisance at times.
“I’ll just have mom go get him in her car when I get home,” I think to myself, admiring the row of tulips lining Mrs. Plunk’s fence. Everything about this day is perfect. The sky is clear, the air is crisp, the flowers are blooming. I cross the sidewalk quickly, making sure to look both ways. Mom has always taught our family about safety when walking home from school.
“Always look both ways at the crosswalk!” She says every morning before I set off to school. So that’s what I always do.
I smile at the rows of houses as I pass, waving to Mr. Green, who is watering his lawn. Suddenly, I hear a voice. A high-pitched, smiling voice that I have known almost all of my life.
“Emma! Wait for me!” I watch in horror as the white figure in the box by the crosswalk disfigures itself into a wretched red hand. And then I saw it. The truck. The moving truck, slowly turning the corner, headed straight for Jack.
I drop my backpack and run. “Just get there in time, this is all your fault, you have to save him”, I think as I gasp for air, running faster than I ever have in my entire life. Truck. Jack. Hand. Truck. Jack. Hand. Faster. Go faster, Emma.
CRUNCH!
My vision blurs as my chest explodes with pain, flowers blossoming behind my lids. I see red. Blood. Red. Stop. Red. Everything is red. Then the black dots come, like the the centers of poppies in a vast field. The dots grow, overtaking my vision, my mind, my soul. Everything is dark.
The first thing that I sense is the cleanliness of the place that I am in. The air smells of some unidentified medicine and baby powder. I crack my eyes open, and I see white. I try to open them wider, but goopy stuff seems to glue them closed. I rub them vigorously, and I finally see where I am. A white room, a blue curtain, and lots of machines. When I sit up, my chest explodes with pain, and I remember. Truck. Jack. Hand. Red. Blood. Stop. “NOOOOOO!” I screamed, not caring how painful it was. I was furious. I hated life, I hated that stupid truck driver, I hated myself for forgetting Jack. Wait. Jack.
The door handle turns, and several nurses run in. “Is everything alright? You have been in a coma for several weeks, and you have finally awakened.” The petite one says, her eyes full of concern.
“Where is Jack?” I screamed at them, neglecting the discomfort of my ribs. I was scared now. What had they done to him?
The stout nurse spoke now. “Ms. Brown, we regret to inform you that your younger brother Jackson Brown was killed in the accident on April second. We were able to keep you alive, but as for him, he passed after just two hours in intensive care.”